What do you do?

Anyone who has ever been to the District of Columbia's social scene knows this question. The reason they know it is that it comes up within microseconds of making eye contact. Unless one is wearing large rubber boots and carrying an axe, in which case, they'll still ask if you drive the fire truck or if you just use the hose.

The thing is, people in DC are all intimately aware of their place within the social hierarchy and need, before conversation can commence, to determine yours. So they'll ask "What do you do?" as a way of finding out if you make more money than them, have more say in the political process, and so on and so forth.

There's just one problem: I don't "do" anything.

My standby in the past was to say that I was a speech writer for an obscure House representative. Preferably a Republican, who I was working for because, god damnit, he's an idealist, and Washington can use more of those. The reason for this one is that, as compared to other "writers," nobody will ask, "So what have you written?" It also gives association with "The Hill" (which is a plus) and sounds vaguely plausable. It's also intellectual, without being nerdy, and allows the "user" (read: liar) to make unsubstantiated attacks on policies that are unpopular. Or to defend those same policies.

The problem with this was, people always assumed I was gay. Not that I wouldn't prefer to be, but somehow, "The Gay Speechwriter" isn't nearly the aphrodesiac I you might imagine it to be.

My next try was to say that I am the guy who works for Publisher's Clearinghouse and carries those huge checks to people's houses, but that I moonlight at golf tournaments since I have experience in the field. Of big checks, not golf. Some people find this funny and endearing, but most people seem genuinely upset that I would refuse to answer. And a minority asked if they could intern with me.